stars.

GONE BEFORE.

Smooth the hair;
Silken waves of sunny brown
Lay upon the white brow down,
Crowned with the blossoms rare;
Lilies on a golden stream,
Ne'er to float in summer air
Wreathed with meadow daisies fair.
Lay away the broken crown
And your broken dream,
With one shining tress of hair,
Nevermore to need your care.

A WOMAN'S HEART.

My heart sings like a bird to-night
That flies to its nest in the soft twilight,
And sings in its brooding bliss;
Ah! I so low, and he so high,
What could he find to love? I cry,
Did ever love stoop so low as this?

As a miser jealously counts his gold,
I sit and dream of my wealth untold,
From the curious world apart;
Too sacred my joy for another eye,
I treasure it tenderly, silently,
And hide it away in my heart.

Dearer to me than the costliest crown
That ever on queenly forehead shone
Is the kiss he left on my brow;
Would I change his smile for a royal gem?
His love for a monarch's diadem?
Change it? Ah, no, ah, no!

My heart sings like a bird to-night
That flies away to its nest of light
To brood o'er its living bliss;
Ah! I so low, and he so high,
What could he find to love? I cry,
Did ever love stoop so low as this?

WARNING.

When enwrapped in rosy pleasure,
Our careless pulses beat,
With a rhythm sweet, sweet,
To the music's merry measure.

When world waves rise around us,
With soft transparent weight,
Light in seeming, yet so great,
The liquid chains have bound us.

Then softly downward falling,
If we listen, we can hear,
From a purer atmosphere,
A warning and a calling.

'Tis not uttered to our ear,
To our spirit it is spoken,
In the wonderful, unbroken
Heavenly speech that spirits hear.

Strange and solemn doth it roll
Downward like a yearning cry,
From that belfry far on high,
Warning, calling to our soul.

Ever, ever, doth it roll,
Our angel guards the tower,
Ringing, ringing, every hour,
Warning, calling to our soul.

GENIEVE TO HER LOVER.

I turn the key in this idle hour
Of an ivory box, and looking, lo--
See only dust--the dust of a flower;
The waters will ebb, the waters will flow,
And dreams will come, and dreams will go,
Forever.

Oh, friend, if you and I should meet
Beneath the boughs of the bending lime,
Should you in the same low voice repeat
The tender words of the old love rhyme,
It could not bring b